Murder, Love, and Justice
by Artikaa
Summary: Set after the events in Dragon Age II, during which Hawke sided with the Templars out of concern for the mages' safety. Aveline is the viscount, Merrill retreated to Sundermount, Anders and Bethany are dead, and Hawke is trying desperately to forget what she has done to her sister, her lover, and her city. Now, Hawke must put her regret aside and be The Champion Kirkwall needs.
1. Chapter 1

The Hanged Man was full of life. Men's hearty laughs and gentle music echoed over the urgent whispers of business and soft clink of coin to the bar. A cloud of smoke and sweat drifted over the people who came in to drink their sorrows and let go. In a dark corner of the tavern with their backs to the wall, 2 feminine figures could be made out against the shadows. A laugh resonated from the first, her long dark hair flowing back as candle light caught the gold glittering in her ears and on her lip. Her dark, painted eyes moved deftly to the other woman's face.

"Alright, Hawke, you win this time," she said, throwing gold onto the table in defeat. "5 septims, as promised."

Hawke grinned and scooped the coins gently into her purse, already full with winnings. "A good game, Isabella," she said as she threw her head back to catch the last drops of her flagon.

Hawke gestured a server to bring more mead and settled back down with her friend, her mind pleasantly numbing after the night's drinking.

Isabella eyed the woman carefully. Her once neat, short black hair had become a tangled mess gathering at her shoulders without care, and her sharp, lively brown eyes were clouded by the drink. Sighing at this shell of the woman she had met years before, she broke the silence.

"I'm thinking of buying another ship."

Hawke's eyes shot up, the old hint of excitement showing in her eyes. "That's great, Isabella!" A wicked grin of the past passed through her features, sending chills through the other woman. "Being out at sea must be exhilarating. All the barriers torn away, the horizon showing no promise of a destination..." her eyes faded out and into her cup as the words she was about to say were lost in the hot air of the tavern. She felt suddenly lost at the idea of her friend leaving on her own adventures. Of course, this brought up other questions she wasn't quite ready to deal with, one of which Isabella seemed to steal from her mind and make known.

"And what are you, The Champion of Kirkwall, going to do?" Isabella eyed Hawke carefully as she visibly flinched at her title. The Champion shifted in her seat and averted her eyes, staring at the splits in the wooden table intensely, not recognizing them as Isabella did. Once the chantry was destroyed and the mages restrained, this had been the first place they had come. Hawke, Isabella, Varric, Aveline, Merrill, Bethany, Sebastian, even that damn Fenris... but not Anders. Hawke had stormed into the inn and thrown her knives into this very table, leaving the wound she was running her fingers across now, caressing the surface of a memory as she furrowed her brow.

Sitting there now, without her armor, Hawke seemed so small. Only a small, untouched dagger lay strapped across her forearm as protection from the many people who wanted this empty woman dead. Isabella pitied her and stood, making eye contact with Hawke and slapping a hand on her shoulder. "I didn't mean it like that," she said slowly, not sure if the words were getting through to her. "You've done so much already. Just go home and rest, okay? I'll take you home."

Hawke nodded absently and stared blankly and Isabella, the red streak across her nose seeming the only color in her face. Isabella threw a few silvers on the table and pulled her to the door.

The Viscount threw her desk across the room in one swift motion, moving to the shelves of tomes amist scattered papers.

"What do you mean he's alive?" She yelled at the courier, sweeping the books from their shelves and shooting daggers from her eyes as the unarmed man cowared by the door. "I don't know, serrah," he begged, stuttering over his words,"I just bring the messages. You'll have to ask-"

The woman screamed, her dark orange hair pouring over her shoulder like fire as she pushed the man aside and strode angrily down the hall. She knew who to ask. She _would_ get answers for this. The Viscount stomped all the way to Lowtown and The Hanged Man, where she found the dark-skinned Isabela mostly dragging a drunken Hawke through the door. She marched over without so much as a pause and pushed the distracted Isabella away from her burden, thrusting Hawke against the wall by her neck and pressing her face close to the other woman's. "HOW?" She bellowed, sending a shiver through the innocents walking home around her. Isabela, having taken back her senses and nursing a split lip, glowered at the viscount and ushered the strangers home, leaning against the tavern as Hawke delt with whatever mess she had made.

Hawke, her head lolling against the rotting wood, smiled drunkly at the woman pinning her against the wall.

"Aveline. Mind telling me what I did this time?" she sputtered out through her constricted throat.

Aveline snarled and threw her weight against Hawke, causing the other woman to choke on her weak laugh. "You said that when you killed Anders, Justice died too!"

The laughter faded from Hawke's eyes as the emptiness returned through confusion. "What?" she whispered, barely audible over Aveline's loud, angry breathing.

"You heard me! Justice is back, Hawke," she screamed as Hawke's breathing stopped completly, the hard smell of the night's drinking no longer warming Aveline's freckled nose.

Isabella pushed off the wall she had been leaning against and threw off the casual air she had mantained. Worry widened her eyes as she pulled the angry viscount from the empty champion, letting Aveline puff with fury as she gently led Hawke to the ground and stood again, facing Aveline with her own anger. "How _dare_ you," she scowled, her disgust clear. "Do you honestly believe that Hawke would find a way to save Justice- of all people? You were there. You _saw_, Aveline! You watched as she cut Anders's head from his body! And now," she whispered, glancing sideways at Hawke's crumpled form, her knees tight against her chest and her unblinking eyes distant. Isabella shook her head and opened her eyes softly to Aveline. "She was heartbroken after that, Aveline. You saw what she did to her sister- what nearly happened to Merril. To save Justice, the abomination? Do you honestly believe her capable of this?"

Aveline, still breathing heavily with a barely contained anger, advanced on Isabella, stopped only by the quick flash of a dagger pressed gently against her throat. Aveline's green eyes darted to Isabella's dark face, a smile playing across the other woman's lips.

"Don't touch me," she whispered gently, lowering her weapon and resheathing it at her belt.

Aveline, angrier after being threatened, turned to Hawke's huddled form. "What happened to Bethany was murder, Hawke, be thankful I havn't the mind to have you killed for it. What happened to Anders was your own doing— and it was rightfully done. Let the past be the past, Champion. What matters is _now_. How did you let Justice escape? He will be the end of us, Hawke! Do you understand that?" Aveline yelled at the broken woman, her eyes bright and her hands flying to Hawke's shoulders, shaking her like a rag doll before letting her fall to the ground. "Pathetic," she hissed at The Champion, standing and spitting on her seemingly lifeless shell.

Isabella rushed at the viscount, throwing her against the door of The Hanged Man. Before Aveline could register what was happening, Isabella pulled back her arm with speed only a rouge could manage and punched Aveline in the jaw, blood flying from her lips. Aveline, possesed with fury, struggled against Isabella but to no avail, her arms trapped by her own armour.

Isabella pulled back her arm again with a hiss, causing Aveline to flinch. Her fist came rushing through the air, but landed with a dull thud in a thin palm. Aveline opened her eyes to see Hawke standing with Isabella's fist clenched in her hand, her eyes leveled with the rouge's, holding a silent apology.

Isabella gently loosed Aveline, following the orders of The Champion long after she ceased to be a leader. Aveline, confused, angry, and slightly afraid of the hardness in Hawke's eyes, gently proded the inside of her bleeding lip with her tounge as she contemplated her next action. As furious as she was, she could not risk another confrontation with Isabella.

Hawke cleared her throat before Aveline could think of a strategy, and all of the fight left in the viscount's body as she stared into The Champion's eyes. Gone was the clouded drunkeness and the blurred confusion. As Hawke's deep brown eyes bore into Aveline's, a smile formed on her lips, then a laugh. Aveline, ashamed by her confusion, wiped blood from the corner of her mouth and stood silently, waiting for Hawke's hysterics to calm down. Isabella stood leaning against the opposite alley wall, her jaw clenched tightly against her rage.

Hawke's breathing reduced to a soft gasp as she turned and pressed her face close to Aveline's.

"You," she whispered intensely, her eyes even with Aveline's and tinted with a quiet fury, "must be mistaken. Anders— Justice— is dead," Her voice lowered and her eyes fell to the stone beneath her feet. "Dead. And there is no way to bring him back." Hawke quivered visibly, her eyesight blurring slightly as she bit back emotion.

She pushed herself away from Aveline and began walking home. When Isabella fell into step next to her and offered to help her home, she refused. She needed to be alone.


	2. Chapter 2

The Champion walked slowly to Hightown, leaving behind an angry viscount, a discontent friend, and a world of confusion. _There's no way Justice could return,_ Hawke thought to herself as she fingered the dagger strapped to her arm. _They're both dead. _

A surge of emotion overtook her heart and filled her mind, sending her trembling to the ground. It had been years since Anders destroyed the chantry, years since she had dared to think about him.

_Traitor, _her mind hissed quietly. He had agreed to join her and side with the templars. He had agreed to stand by her side in whatever she chose as best. _Which is why he let me kill him, _she admitted to herself. Sitting as she was, she could see her estate towering above the others only a few streets down. Yet, as she stood, she turned in the other direction. She didn't know where she was going until she found herself before Fenris's house. A scowl ran across her lips as she recalled the distasteful elf, a dangerous enemy, an even more dangerous friend. But, if what Aveline said was true, they would need someone like him to help them.

She knocked on the door hard, instantly regretting coming to him, but before she could turn and walk away, the door flew open. Fenris eyed her with surprise and disgust matching her own through locks of white hair. Their expressions of unhappiness mirrored on each other's faces until Fenris spoke.

"What do _you_ want?" he spit out, lips drawing back in discomfort.

Hawke sighed and brushed the unruly black hair from her face so he could see the hatred in her eyes. "I really wish I knew."

He stood confused for a moment, eyeing her hesitantly, and decided that she could do him no harm tonight. He let out a breath in defeat and stood to the side, gesturing The Champion threw the door. "Fine. Come in."

She walked firmly past him, careful not to brush against him as she strode to his sitting room and sat down in the first chair she saw. Fenris followed slowly, watching her every step as though she would suddenly jump up and claw his eyes out. She let out a weak laugh and unstrapped the dagger from her fore arm.

"This is the only weapon I carry now," she said, gesturing to the knife and tossing it onto a small table. "I don't come meaning you any harm. I come…" she shifted uneasily, self-hatred in her heart for coming to Fenris first. Finally, she sighed and threw her head into her hands. "I need your help," she mumbled into her palms.

A moment of silence followed, then, when Hawke raised her eyes between her fingers and looked Fenris in the eyes to let him know she was serious, he began to laugh. Bent over and clutching his stomach, he gripped an overstuffed arm chair and sat down, fighting for air. "You," he sputtered, his speech impaired by his lack of air, "you _really_ are serious! Oh, Maker! What could you possibly come expecting _me_ to help you with?" He asked. Then, suddenly serious, "I thought it had already been decided that we hate one another. From the look in your eyes, we obviously still do. What could be so bad that you have to come to me for help?"

Hawke sat up, throwing her tangled hair back and mentally bracing herself for the words she was about to speak. "I ran into Aveline tonight," she said, grimacing at the understatement. She locked her eyes with the elf's, weighing the effect of her next words. "Justice is alive."

Fenris's features flashed surprise before settling again into an emotionless mask. He stood from his chair and opened his mouth, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I… I don't understand. We were all there when you killed him. Unless, that is, he somehow escaped that arrogant bastard's body." Fenris paced in front of Hawke, his long, thin fingers gently holding his chin as he thought. He threw down his hands and looked quietly at Hawke. "I don't get it. You killed them. Neither of those damn mages should have made it out of Anders's body." Then, amidst his confusion, a nervous rage shot up inside of him. "They deserved to die!" He half-screamed to himself. "The both of them! Dirty, filthy, rotten, abomina—"

Hawke shot out of her chair and grabbed the knife from the table in one swift motion, flicking it to Fenris's neck as she pushed him back into his chair. His eyes were wide with surprise and she was breathing heavily with anger, bracing her knees on either side of him on the chair to keep him down. Her words came in a hiss as she spat them out quietly and intensely, inches away from his face. "Don't you _ever_ talk about Anders like that. Understand me, elf? You keep your damned mouth to yourself or you're going to get killed," she whispered, gently pressing the point of her dagger into the hollow of his throat, drawing a tiny dot of blood and letting it run down between the blue tattoos that marked his skin.

Fenris struggled beneath her and gave an inhuman growl, his tattoos flashing with lyrium. "And just when I thought we were getting along." He gave a surge of energy beneath Hawke and lifted her straight out of the chair, throwing her heavily to the floor and straddling her much as she had been doing, holding her wrists to the floor above her head.

Hawke drew back and spat into the elf's face, his startled reaction giving her the leverage to escape and throw herself back on top of him, knocking him against the wall and rolling back on top of him to keep his arms down. He struggled to no avail, his legs trapped beneath Hawke's. He howled in anger and thrashed his head around wildly to hers, locks of pure white hair falling dangerously into his eyes as he bore his gaze into hers.

"You still love that damn abomination, don't you?" he yelled, the veins in his neck pulsing with every stroke of his angry heart. "If you love him so much, why'd you kill him? You cut his throat like the blood thirsty bitch you are! Why didn't you spare him and run away with the bastard? You could have taken Kirkwall for the mages then, but why didn't you? Why, instead, did you go fucking crazy? You killed your sister, Hawke! Your sister tried to comfort you and you killed her! If Merrill wasn't so innocent you would have killed her too," he huffed, the energy leaving him. His words became a whisper, gentle and almost apologetic. "What changed you?"

Hawke, eyes crazed and uneven hair falling around her face, looked very much the murderer. Her face was wild and she dug her nails into Fenris's wrists until he was sure they were bleeding. "Because they're all doomed!" she yelled, her voice seeming to quake the entire mansion. "They'll all end up as abominations! If I couldn't trust Anders to stay sane, who could I trust, Fenris? You of all people know the pain mages can cause," she said slowly, her eyes tracing the marks on his face created by his slave master Denarius.

Fenris turned away as best he could, suddenly ashamed of his marks. "I know how it feels," he admitted, "and I'm sure I probably hate mages a Hell of a lot more than you do." He thought back on his own sister and how glad he was to kill her for selling him into slavery, but Bethany was different. Despite being a mage, she had truly cared about her sister.

Hawke gently released her grip on Fenris's wrists, untangling her legs from his as she sensed his air of defeat. She retrieved her dagger from where it had fallen and strapped it back to her arm, walking swiftly to the door and leaving Fenris lying on the floor. "If you decide to help me kill Justice," she said slowly, her hand on the door, "you know where to find me. If not, don't even bother pulling yourself off the floor."

Then she pushed the door open and left without another word.


	3. Chapter 3

After Hawke left, the door slamming fiercely behind her, Fenris stayed on the floor. Minutes ticked away as he struggled inwardly, trying to find a reason not to help Hawke.

_What am I doing_, he thought to himself, silently rubbing his temples and squeezing his eyes shut. It had been years since he had spoken with Hawke. Whenever they had come across one another in passing, they carefully and politely avoided and ignored each other out of a mutual hate and respect.

Why, then, had she come to him?

_She's scared_, a part of him whispered. _She stopped trusting people a long time ago. She's coming to me because she _knows _I can't be trusted and that clarity must comfort her._

Fenris thought carefully on the idea of Justice returning, wondering if he would seek vengeance. After some consideration, Fenris braced his palms against the cold floor, heaving himself to a seated position and leaning heavily against the wall. He put his hands over his face to feel the cool lyrium pumping through his veins, followed by a warm trickle. Fenris opened his eyes in confusion and silently ran a finger across his jaw, drawing away a tiny smear of red. He examined where Hawke's nails had been digging into his wrists and found tiny half-moon cuts, bleeding freely.

The elf ran his fingers gently over the tiny cuts and breathed a heavy sigh. He pushed himself to his feet and started to his chambers, preparing all the things he would need to join The Champion.

* * *

Hawke walked through her estate in a silent rage, trying desperately not to scream her fear and anger. Thankfully, she discovered the manor empty. She marched aimlessly through her house, not able to sit still. She passed a mirror in the hall and doubled back as she met a stranger. A woman with a tangled nest of hair, crazed eyes, and shrunken cheeks stared back at her. She gently prodded her face, trying to make it look vaguely familiar to its owner.

With a burst of self-hatred she unsheathed the dagger at her wrist and flung it into her hair, chopping unevenly at the unruly mass until it looked fairly close to the close-cut sleekness she was used to.

She kicked the locks of hair gathered on the floor with her boot as she turned away, leaving them for someone else to deal with. The Champion continued her empty march until the halls echoed with a knock. Tilting her head curiously, Hawke trailed slowly down the stairs and to the front door, resting a hand gently on the cool handle. Another knock quickly sounded, echoing around Hawke as the door in front of her shook with impact. Hawke, no longer caring for caution, threw open the door and came face to face with Aveline for the second time that night.

Despite her earlier hostility, the viscount now leaned against the door frame with a crushed spirit. The fight in her eyes had been extinguished and her face paled in comparison to her bright orange hair and the red blood crusting freshly on her lip.

The Champion, however, felt no inclination towards kindness. "What are you doing here?" She asked, a hardness in her brown eyes that set a lump in the other woman's distressed throat.

Aveline swallowed her pride and eyed Hawke carefully. The uneven cut she had given her hair put a little more sanity into her features, but the distance in her eyes remained. "Hawke, I just spoke with my knight-commander," she started, keeping her eyes level with The Champion's to gauge her reaction. When a few seconds had passed and the mask of apathy hadn't moved, Aveline pushed herself off the door frame and clenched her fists for support. "Patrols have gone missing along the fringes of Sundermount. Our scouts disappear out there and only one has ever come back, only to die hours later in the care of our healers."

Hawke shook her head slightly, her eyes narrowing nervously. "That doesn't mean anything," she said quietly. "It could just be the work of gangs or rouge mages."

Aveline grasped Hawke's shoulder and forced her eyes to her own. "The survivor came back for a reason. He was marked by magic, but nothing a typical mage would be able to use without killing himself. Hawke, Justice really is back, and he sent that man back alive to let us know."

Hawke grinned sadly and pushed Aveline away from her, retreating further into the house. "I know he is," she admitted, "It's strange, I... I can _feel_ him. In my head." She whispered, grasping the sides of her head.

Aveline nodded, only mildly surprised. "He's a creature of the fade. We have all felt him."

Hawke looked up and examined Aveline's tired green eyes and asked the question she had been dreading. "So, what are we going to do about it?"

Aveline shortly jumped in surprise, not having thought Hawke capable of immediate action after her actions over the past years. "I- I don't know," she admitted, glancing at her feet and shifted her weight uncomfortably. "I hadn't thought that far yet. I suppose I'll get the guard on it and-"

"No."

The viscount stared at Hawke with disbelief. "Well, why the Hell not?"

Hawke said, her tone even, "If your scouts and patrols can't send back word of a single victory, how do you expect to win a war?" Aveline began to retort with an argument, but was cut off by The Champion. "Because _that _is what this will come to. Justice wants revenge on us. On me," She sighed heavily. "I've spoken with Fenris already. There's no telling what that bastard will decide to do, but I intend to find Sebastian and Varric tomorrow morning. How about you? Will you join me?"

Aveline stared in disbelief at The Champion. _She's right_, Aveline noted silently. She nodded and held out a hand to Hawke, grasping her firmly by the forearm in respect. "I will join you, Champion."

Hawke let the title she so regretted sink in for a moment, and then quietly let it go. _Kirkwall needs a Champion_. "Lets finish what we started 3 years ago, shall we?" she said with mock humor.

Aveline grunted in response, turned on her heel, and left as Hawke shut the door firmly and retreated for the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: Sorry I haven't uploaded any recent chapters, but I have had a TON of college work these last few weeks.

Varric fingered the length of his giant crossbow delicately as Hawke entered The Hanged Man. He glanced up, the dim candlelight reflecting off of his light hair and golden eyes while casting shadows across the rest of his features.

Hawke stalked across the tavern with a determined pace and stopped at his table with clenched fists, determination written hard in her eyes. "Varric," she said slowly as she ran her gaze quickly over the slant in his lips and the furrow of his brow. He knew.

"Isabella told me," he said, getting to his feet and gesturing for The Champion to follow.

They walked quickly down the hall to his room and shut the door tightly, listening in intense silence for a few seconds to be sure they were completely alone.

Hawke and Varric stood facing each other over a small, rotting table shoved against one wall of the small room. The air and noise of the tavern seemed distant behind the closed door, but the walls were thin. Few possessions crowded the room, as Varric's only valued possession was Bianca, his crossbow, which was always slung over his shoulder. The dwarf barely reached Hawke's chest, but she looked down to him with respect and relief.

Hawke sat on the end of Varric's hard bed, sending dust flying from beneath her. She rested her head on a fist and glanced side ways at the dwarf. "What do we do, Varric?" She asked, her rough voice barely above a whisper. "If Justice has come back, won't he want revenge for the mages?"

Varric let out a breathe he hadn't realized he'd been holding and sat down next to Hawke on the narrow bed. He grasped her knee reassuringly and held her eyes with his. "I have no idea. We only know about Justice what Anders told us. Honestly, I don't think he knew much about him himself." He said no more about Anders, which was a relief to Hawke. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes, bringing both her hands to her face and resting both elbows on her knees.

She closed her eyes tightly as she tried to remember everything Anders had ever told her about Justice.

"He hated the templars because Anders did," she spoke into her palms. "Justice just intensified the hate, remember?"

Varric's eyes narrowed in thought, grateful that Hawke's eyes were still in her hands so she couldn't see the confusion playing out across his face. "So if he possessed, say, a templar who hated mages... he would turn against the mages? Adopt a whole new perspective?"

Hawke lifted her face and laid her chin gently in her fingers, staring at the rotting walls with an absent intensity.

"Wouldn't he be on our side then?" She whispered more to herself than the dwarf. "I mean, if you have to put it that way, dividing us into sides. "

"Perhaps," the dwarf said, throwing his gaze to Hawke's face as she continued to stare ahead. "Although we can't be certain. We don't know much about Justice."

"If only we knew someone who did," Hawke whispered in thought. Who had Anders traveled with before them? They sat in silence as both heroes were caught in their own thoughts.

The Champion furrowed her brow in concentration as she tried to recall her first conversations with Anders in hopes of finding out more about his past. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and her mouth opened into a silent _O_. "The Wardens!" She shouted, jumping up and spinning to Varric who jumped back significantly at her outburst which had broken him from his own thought. "Anders used to be a Grey Warden! He said that was how he met Justice, remember?" She smiled, pleased with herself for remembering.

Varric's eyes widened at the realization and jumped up to join her, his excitement matching hers. "The Grey Wardens, eh? I'll find Isabella and let her know- she's bound to be around here somewhere." He looked into Hawke's brown eyes and grasped her hand with a grin before leaving the room laughing with content. "We're getting somewhere!" He shouted back before shutting the dusty door behind him and leaving Hawke alone, smiling dumbly to herself.

Sebastian was in the chantry polishing his bow gently when Hawke arrived. He looked up from his work and smiled openly at her, a quirk in his brow that showed his interest.

The Champion approached him quickly, glancing around to see no others in the room he sat in. She glanced once more out the door for good measure and pulled it tight behind her with a low thud.

Sebastian stood and laid his bow on the table, crossing to Hawke in a few short steps. "What brings you here?" He asked, his blue eyes scanning her face for answers.

Hawke quickly explained everything to her friend, leaving out her fights with Aveline and Fenris. Sebastian caught on to this, however, and confronted her after politely letting her finish her tale.

"Aveline didn't suspect you at first?" He asked as his brow lifted again in a way that made Hawke's fingers twitch towards her knife.

"Of course she did," Hawke admitted with a sigh, "but that's not exactly important, is it? Isabella helped me explain it to her and she didn't pursue it any further."

"You haven't heard the end of that, I'm sure."

"Probably not," Hawke said with a roll of her eyes, "but if she's ready to join me then I have no complaints."

"To keep a closer eye on you no doubt," he said with a smile and Hawke scoffed, mumbling her agreement. Sebastian leaned forward in his chair and gazed at Hawke, knowing she was hiding something from him. He could only guess what.

"You've spoken to Fenris." It wasn't a question, but Hawke nodded anyway, her disgust clear at the mention of his name.

"We need his help," she said, meeting Sebastian's gaze. "I hate him just as much as you do, but he's probably our best shot at killing Justice. No one knows mages like he does."

Sebastian stood and quietly walked to the door, stopped only by Hawke's hand on his shoulder.

"Where are you going?" She asked although she already knew the answer.

He turned and slowly took her hand off of his shoulder, holding it gently in both of his. "I will not work with him, Hawke," he said, his blue eyes piercing hers. "He is unruly and selfish. He knows no boundaries. He has taken the lives of mages simply because they wield magic. He-"

"So have I!" Hawke yelled, ending his rant. "I killed my own sister simply because she had the same magic as Anders, Sebastian. Yet you would fight along side me?" She pulled her hand hard from his and backed up slowly, tears welling in her eyes at the memories. "That bastard is our best shot at revenge."

Sebastian stepped forward and put a hand gently on Hawke's face, wiping a loose tear with his thumb. "I can never hate you," he said, his words slow and his eyes watching her lips. He bent down slowly, placing his mouth against hers.

Hawke stood, frozen at his kiss. She put a hand to his chest to stop him but he placed a hand on her hip to keep her in place. He pulled back slowly, his bright eyes clouded by hurt.

"Sebastian..."

"Still no, huh?" He said, grimacing as he let her pull away from his embrace. "Sorry, I just had to try one last time before I let you go."

Hawke smiled sadly at him, her eyes level with his. "We don't even know if Fenris will join us."

"Oh, he will," Sebastian said with a certainty Hawke didn't want to argue. "He wouldn't turn down the chance to hunt some mages." Hawke hugged her friend one last time and let him leave, standing alone in the chantry as she sat with the decisions she had made.


End file.
